Collide
by Pyro Psychotic
Summary: Set after 7x02. Dean struggles in dealing with the loss of Cas. What will he do when his world comes screaming down? Warnings: mentions of attempted sucide, possible spoilers, mention of slash and swearing. Basically what you've come to expect from me!
1. Part 1: Torture & Disbelief

K this is a spur of the moment fic. I was looking at angel in your heart by kasienka-nikki on deviantART and listening to "Collide" by Skillet when I got inspired to write this. It's not really a songfic, but consider it what you will.

Basic info is that this takes place after 7x02. I don't know how it's gonna turn out, but this is what my mind came up with. If you don't like it, get it line and Kiss My Irish A$$! Yes there will be more parts, I'll get them out eventually!

Warnings: possibly some OoCness, slight slashy-ness, and the normal chaos and confusion that may/may not result from my stories.

Disclaimer: I no own! You no sue! Dean, Cas and Sam belong to Eric Kripke. I just invite them over, knock Sam out, tie him to a tree and leave him there while I "encourage" Dean and Cas to have some "alone" time in the basement while secretly filming it! I do return them, in as decent condition as possible, so others may play with them! See! I know how to share! I also don't own the song name used for the title. That belongs to Skillet.

If you have any questions feel free to ask!

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><p>Once again Dean woke up in a sweat.<p>

He couldn't believe it had been that long.

2 years since they watched Cas walk into water like he was Jesus or somethin'.

He remembers never forgetting about Cas,

even as their battle against the Leviathan went south fast.

They'd only barely managed kill the leader,

which ended with Sam in the hospital for 2 weeks.

Dean hadn't been so lucky.

He had been comatose after the battle for 27 weeks.

During that time it had been hell.

Wait, no. **Worse **than Hell.

Not even the rack could compare to his evil, self-hating mind.

Every time he dreamed he saw Cas.

Not GodCas or even LeviathanCas.

Just plain old loveable Cas.

Sometimes he even saw Bobby with Cas and it made him feel worse.

Though most time it was just Cas,

still looking like the Angel of the Lord he was.

The trench coat was still on his body,

not in the Impala's trunk,

making him look like Heaven's nerdy accountant.

Cas never spoke.

He would just stare at Dean,

though Dean could hear things in his head.

Cas seemed to still be telling him things,

even though he was doing a damn good impression of a mute.

Things like "You must go back Dean."

"You can't stay here, you'll die."

"Sam is getting scared, don't stay any longer."

The scariest and most disturbing was what Cas said

in the last dream before Dean woke up.

"Dean, come back please. I'm waiting for you."

He knew his mind was playing tricks on him then.

Cus when he did open his eyes, there was no Cas.

Only a plethora of nurses and doctors

with Sam right in the middle.

He had looked so terrified but it also could have been relief.

Relief that he still had family and that he wasn't alone.

It had been another 6 months before the doctor's cleared him.

Returning to a motel, that first night was bad.

Like when he was comatose, Dean had dreams of Cas.

Though in these ones Cas talked.

He never shut up.

Every dream he was talking about something.

Whether it was the state of the world, Dean's newest conquest or about the last hunt,

Cas always talked.

Dean knew that the Cas in his noodle wasn't real

and must just be his mind trying to help him cope with the loss.

He couldn't, with any amount of certainty, say that now.

The earlier dream, no, nightmare had been so real it must have been.

Instead of his normal(not for the real Cas), chatty self,

his MindCas had become quiet and still.

An eerie look had come to his eyes,

like he was not at all happy with what was in his head at the moment.

"Dean," Cas said solemnly, "Why aren't you looking for me? I told you I am alive."

This had been the only time he could talk in his dream.

And he had used it to bitch at himself.

"No, you're not Cas. You never came out of the water and I haven't heard diddly from you for 2 years.

2 YEARS, Cas! I ju...I just can't keep believing in lost causes.

Especially when I know it's hopeless."

"I'm not lying, Dean and I'm not just in your head."

Cas turned away from him.

"I wish you would believe me."

That one sentence was all it took.

In 2 seconds, 2 years of doubt and self-loathing erased.

Those words said in a voice so calm it was broken.

Only after Cas disappeared from his sight did he do anything.

He screamed for what seemed like years.

Once he woke up, Dean felt only marginally better.

The sweat still coated his forehead and he couldn't stop the tears leaking from his eyes.

Sam had long given up on trying to get Dean to talk about the nightmares.

One learned quickly that if a Winchester did not want to talk, nothing could make them.

Anyway Dean reflected on the nightmare just a little longer.

Although these thoughts would never reach outside the confines of his mind,

Dean missed Cas terribly and would give anything just to see him again.

He had tried suicide, but it had been MindCas who had convinced him to get help.

After dealing with a worried/pissed Sam, Dean decided against it ever again.

He would just have to wait until he died,

that is if Cas could return to Heaven and if that was where he was gonna end up when he died.

Winchesters would probably be the only family stuck in Limbo for all eternally.

Not because they didn't belong somewhere,

But because both sides wanted them too much and

at the same time didn't want them at all!

As the day progressed, Dean had a feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.

It never left and a feeling like that was never good news for the feeler.

They had been on a hunt for most of the day.

All it had been was a simple exorcism with a salt'n'burn attached.

They finished right when it started raining just as it was getting dark.

There was no need to go at night.

The area of haunting was abandoned and no one lived within 50 miles in any direction.

So it had been easy to get thrown around, burn the bones

and get the hell out of there before anyone noticed the smoke.

They had just gotten back.

Sam had checked himself and then Dean for any serious injuries.

Finding nothing a beer, some stitches and a couple of pain pills couldn't fix,

Sam went out for the necessary supplies, telling Dean he'd be right back.

Dean hadn't really heard him, electing to take a shower and be alone with his thoughts.

After only 5 minutes in the shower, all of his instincts were screaming at him to GET OUT NOW!

Not knowing why, Dean did as he was told.

Not even 10 seconds later, soft banging came from the motel room door.

Thinking it couldn't yet be Sam, Dean, clad in only his boxers and holding a gun, cautiously opened the door.

What happened next would shock anyone.

It wasn't a mugger or robber on the other side of the door.

It wasn't even the police.

Standing there in all 100% solid real form was Cas.

Except he wasn't right.

Cas' eyes, although they were always stern, had always held a sparkle in them.

That sparkle was nowhere to be seen.

So many emotions flooded Dean in that instant.

Relief, anger, confusion and most of all caution.

How did he know this was Cas and not that Leviathan motherfucker fucking with him again?

Before his mind could question him any further, Cas spoke.

"Dean..."

It was one short syllable that fell off his lips but it did all it needed.

Before Dean could respond however, Cas had pitched forward,

the ground rushing to meet him.

"Cas!" Dean shouted in surprise and worry.

He dove forward, dropping his gun to catch the now unconscious angel.

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><p>Review plz! Reviews r meh noms! Feed teh starvin' kitteh! If u no feed, u guilty of animel negect! Not really, but reviews do inspire me to write more!<p> 


	2. Part 2:Is he still alive

Another update wooo! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warnings: possibly some OoCness, slight slashy-ness, and the normal chaos and confusion that may/may not result from my stories. May need tissue and a punchbag for this one. Though an inanimate one would be great!

Disclaimer: I no own! You no sue! Dean, Cas and Sam belong to Eric Kripke. I just invite them over, knock Sam out, tie him to a tree and leave him there while I "encourage" Dean and Cas to have some "alone" time in the basement while secretly filming it! I do return them, in as decent condition as possible, so others may play with them! See! I know how to share! I also don't own the song name used for the title. That belongs to Skillet.

If you have any questions feel free to ask!

Don't Forget to Review! :)

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><p>Cas hung limply in Dean's arms.<p>

He looked just like he always did,

before it all went south.

The sparkle was still gone,

But hopefully it was his Cas

In the meat-suit of Jimmy Novak.

**Not** a Leviathan.

He couldn't tell right now.

Just like everything else,

he had to wait and see.

Oh how he hated that phrase!

Waiting meant anything could go wrong and sometimes

Dean didn't want to see the result.

Pulling out of his thoughts,

Dean looked at Cas properly.

He didn't notice at first,

his hunter instincts on full blast,

but there was something different about Cas.

He still looked like Heaven's nerdy accountant,

but it was off somehow.

It took Dean 5 minutes of staring

before he figured out what it was.

Cas was breathing.

He knew the angel always did it,

more for appearances than out if necessity,

but he'd never seen him do it while asleep.

Another oddity was the flush tinting his cheeks.

He'd never seen much color,

other than pale,

on the angel's face,

even when he was injured.

It worried him.

So much so that he wanted to wake him,

but he didn't.

Instead he moved Cas to his bed,

laying the surprisingly light angel down gently.

Realizing his state of dress,

Dean quickly slipped on a shirt and pants

before starting his vigil.

He lost track of time watching Cas sleep.

Cus the next thing he knew Sam was back.

Sam opened the door to

their current dirty motel room.

He didn't notice the gun,

lying discarded just beyond the threshold.

He also didn't notice,

at least not immediately,

the figure in Dean's bed.

Instead his attention was drawn

to the open bathroom door.

It sent alarm bells screaming

in his mind.

Panic spreading through his body,

Sam frantically searched the room with his eyes.

Panic decreased when he saw Dean,

only for it to spike again when he saw

the figure in Dean's bed.

He managed to squeak out

"Dean, what the…"

before he was interrupted.

He heard Sam come in

and saw him panic,

but Dean remained quiet until

Sam almost woke Cas.

As Sam was about to speak

Dean silenced him with a glance.

"Not here." It said.

Getting up from the chair he was in,

Dean grabbed a pen and paper

from the bedside table,

scribbled a quick note,

left it and his phone on the table

and walked out the door,

knowing Sam would follow.

Once outside, Dean extended his hand towards Sam,

wordlessly asking for his keys back.

Sam fished them out of his pocket

dropping them quickly into Dean's open palm.

Dean glances back at the room,

hoping all goes according to plan,

before getting in his baby.

After she roared to life,

Dean waited for Sam to get in

before driving off.

Normally he'd opt for Metallica or Led Zeppelin

but he needed the silence this time.

The current town had miles of back-roads.

Perfect for a private chat with your brother.

Turning onto one, Dean drove for 5 more minutes

until he found a field,

parking alongside it on the road.

After cutting the engine, he waited

for Sam to voice any of the dozens of

questions floating around in his melon right then.

"What was that Dean?

That can't **possibly** be Cas, can it!

I mean, we both saw him walk in that water

and not come out!"

Sam ended with a small head shake

and stared at Dean, waiting for answers.

"I don't know Sammy, I honestly don't know.

If he did survive that, I don't know how.

As much as I wished,

Cas shouldn't be here.

Not alive at least."

He muttered the last part to himself

not sure if he believed it himself.

As he'd been told before,

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence,

Sam asked another question,

one Dean knew he didn't have the answer to.

"Well how'd Cas come back

and how'd he find us?

Did he just show up or

did you pray for him?

Don't deny it, Dean.

I know you miss him."

Sam ended by staring determined into to Dean's eyes,

almost pulling out his bitchface before Dean answered.

"I don't know Sam, honestly.

If I knew how to come back from death,

Don't ya think I woulda told someone or

tried to make some kind of money off it!

Or better yet, never have died?

And to answer your other question,

I have no idea how he found us!

I was in the shower,

had a feelin' somethin' was wrong

and got out.

Right after that, I heard a noise at the door.

Knew it couldn't be you, so I got my gun,

opened the door and

Voilà! There he was!

Nearly passing out and looking like shit!

He said my name and then...lights out!

After that I moved him from the floor.

You came in about ten minutes after that.

And you're damn right I missed him!

Most the time he was better company then you,

even if he's as naïve as a baby

and pms' worse than a teenage girl.

Wait a minute! So do you, Sammy!"

Dean ended his response with a quick joke,

chuckling harder as Sam punched him in the arm

and muttered "Jerk" darkly under his breath.

"You know I love ya, ya little bitch."

Dean smiled again,

enjoying the witty banter they shared.

Suddenly Dean's jovial mood was dissolved,

replaced by the hardened hunter his father raised.

His gaze so intense it could melt a hole in the windshield,

Dean quickly scanned the dark trees in front of and beside them,

not seeing anything that had tripped his instincts.

After 30 seconds of staring out the windshield,

Dean was about to dismiss it and drive back to the motel

when he saw it again,

that small splash of movement in the mostly still night.

He knew he wasn't seeing things as Sam moved to exit

the Impala, having seen the same thing.

Before either brother could move however,

a figure appeared at the driver's door,

dark, imposing and just plain evil.

They couldn't tell who or what it was,

but both brothers were cursing themselves

for the only available weapons were in the trunk.

It rapped on the window,

telling them it was human, maybe.

Dean turned his baby on to roll the window halfway down,

suspicion and caution sparking through his nerves

He cuts her engine again,

keeping his hand on the keys just in case.

"Well, well the Winchesters. Never thought I'd meet

anyone more infamous than Hitler, yet here you are."

She smirked, the light from the moon

accenting her white teeth and black eyes.

"What do you want, you demonic bitch?"

Dean spat,

venom hanging off every word.

"Nothin' Deanie boy,

Just passin' on a message."

She said, enjoying how riled Dean was.

Something inside of him was screaming

that Dean **DID ****NOT** want to hear this message,

yet he knew he had to.

"What kind of message?"

Sam questioned.

"Depends on how ya take it,

Sammy. But I don't think it's good."

She smirked again,

obviously toying with them,

and enjoying it.

"Just spit it out, you filthy skank!"

Dean shouted,

worry and anger mixing dangerously.

"Tsk, Tsk Dean-o. Such language.

I don't think I want to tell you now."

She waggled her finger,

feigning being hurt.

"Tell me now bitch or

I will gank you where you stand!"

Dean was getting fed up with this whore

yanking him around!

"Fine,"

she sighed,

knowing it was time to end it.

She had stalled them long enough.

"But ya know somethin' Dean?

You shouldn't

leave your pet alone,

especially when they

can't defend themselves at all."

Her smirk grew larger

at the horror drowning

Dean's pretty jade chips.

She barely has time to

jump back from the Impala

before it's racing away, taking with it

the demon's triumphant cackles.

Dean was driving furiously,

his mind a jumbled vortex.

He was so focused on getting to Cas

that he didn't hear Sam's phone going off

or Sam calling for him.

Only when Sam practically

screamed in his ear did Dean

notice the phone being offered to him.

"Unless it's God calling to apologize,

I'm not here.

You answer it."

He didn't have any patience,

worry and fear having consumed him whole.

"Dean, it's Ca-..."

Sam started but never finished as

the phone was ripped from his hand.

"Cas?"

Panic threw itself out of Dean's mouth

as he took a turn too sharply.

The silence was driving him insane,

but just before he called out again,

the angel answered.

"D-D-D-Dean."

Cas' voice was quaking and distressed.

I-I need h-h-help."

His low shaky voice a pitiful bleat, like that of a dying goat.

"Cas, how are you hurt?

Just hang tight!

I'll be there in 5 minutes or less!"

His answer was deep breathing,

harsh, short and wet.

"You die before I get there

and I'll bring your ass back

just to kill ya' myself!

Got that Cas!

You keep breathin'

any way you can!

I'm almost there!"

H could no longer control

his eyes as they shed

fat hot tears in floods.

The Impala was still running

an barely parked

when Dean jumped out

and bolted for the room,

not even noticing the door

hanging by its hinges

or the obvious signs of struggle.

He only had eyes for one thing

and it's not there.

Amidst all the carnage and destruction,

his eyes latched onto the closed bathroom door

and the blood smeared around the handle.

He was pounding on the door before he knew it.

"Cas! Are you in there?"

He received no response,

not that he really expected one.

In his frenzy to get to Cas,

who was very likely injured,

Dean kicked the door open,

not even checking to see if it was locked.

As he barged in,

Dean realized,

much to his own horror,

that once grimy, white walls

were now coated in fresh, bright, violent scarlet.

The tang of iron was so strong

that Dean's hopes dropped second by second.

He walked further in,

boots crunching on shards of the mirror,

towards the tub,

curtains dripping red.

There were no bodies to be seen,

so Dean had to assume it was

all Cas' until told otherwise.

He pulled the curtain back,

worry burning him whole as he

took in the empty sight of the plastic.

'NOOOO!'

His thoughts screamed,

nearly drowning out Sam.

"Dean! Over here!"

He raced out of the room,

following Sam's voice

to the side of the motel building.

He fell to his knees next to Sam,

his face drowning in fresh tears.

It was Cas alright, but

Dean wasn't sure he was alive.

No one could possibly be

after being painted in blood,

from toe to messy black hair.

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><p>Here ya go! Let me know what you think! Please review! Reviews make me happy and get me to update quicker, Also feel free to vote in the poll on my profile page! I love hearing from you guys!<p> 


	3. Part 3: Blood, Fog and Almost Angels

Well here it is at long last! The third part to Collide! This is all from Cas' PoV and the next chapter will be Dean's with possibly some of Sam's mixed in. I spelled checked and edited it myself, but if you see any errors please let me know!

Warnings: Violence, very minor slash references, talk of near death and OoC.

**REMEMBER! Season 7 past episode 2 and all of Season 8 DO NOT HAPPEN according to this fic!**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any recognizable characters. Those belong to Eric Kripke and The CW. I do own the currently nameless female that appears several times in this chapter and I would rather you not use her likeness or character without asking me first._

Also kudos to anyone who can guess who the mystery character is. One hint: she is an original character that has already appeared in another story of mine.

Anyway ALLONS-Y WITH THE STORY!

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><p>Fog clouds my vision<p>

before my eyes flutter open.

I have no idea

where I am or

how I got there.

All I know is

I feel safe.

Once my vision focuses

I see I'm in a motel room.

How I got there is still a mystery.

My last coherent memories

are of water choked lungs,

running feet and flashing scenery.

My next memories after that

can't possibly real.

If they are,

and that's a **big IF**,

then I spent a year and a half

in Dean's "grapefruit"

as he calls it.

At first it was disorientating.

I didn't know how I got there or

how I could get out.

For the first six months

I couldn't talk.

He could hear my thoughts

and I could hear his,

but I couldn't talk.

I heard his every thought,

even those I would've rather not,

and I "talked" about all of them.

I know I annoyed him with

all of my chatter but

I couldn't stop talking.

I had thought that if I did stop,

I would cease to exist.

At the very end,

I pleaded with him to

wake up and return to me,

that I was waiting for him.

Then suddenly I woke up,

my vessel, somehow, in a tree.

I kept on the move,

never staying in one place

too long and no repeats.

I didn't know what

I was running from.

All I knew was that

something in the back of

my mind told me to.

The next time I "saw" Dean,

it was six months after

I woke up with a squirrel.

This time I could talk

and once more

I never shut up.

But when this time ended

Dean talked for the first time.

His voice sounded so beautiful,

like water in the dry desert.

He took that rare, precious

opportunity and yelled at me.

He said he couldn't keep

believing in lost causes

and that he didn't believe I was alive.

That hurt me deeply.

I told him how

I wished he would believe me

and then I turned away.

When I came to that time,

tears had found their way

from my eyes and down my cheeks.

I never really cried before

and I didn't know I could.

I had shed a few tears

when Dean attempted suicide.

He wanted to see me again

and he thought suicide was the way.

That night I screamed at him!

I told him to wake up

and get help.

He tried to argue

but I wouldn't hear it.

Dean tried to bandage himself.

They wouldn't stay wrapped

and that worried me.

Dean was always so precise

in his attention to injury.

Was it the blood loss

or want to see me

that made his fingers clumsy?

I rejoiced when Sam came back.

It took him a minute to notice

his brother's injuries.

but when he did,

Sam blew up at Dean!

One who knew the brothers

knew they were fiercely protective,

to the point of obsession,

and tended to overreact when

the other was injured.

After Sam properly bandaged Dean's cuts,

he stayed up all night,

watching Dean sleep and worrying about him.

After that night, Dean never tried it again.

Sam also kept a closer eye on him.

That's enough remembering for now.

What I really need to know is

where I am and how I got there.

I remember coming across a small farmhouse,

seemingly abandoned,

and thought it was a good place to sleep

out of the rain that would be coming down soon.

I had decided against it

once I saw how deep in disrepair it was.

It almost looked like

Dean and Sam had been there on a hunt.

After leaving the farmhouse,

I wandered down the dampening dirt road,

hoping to reach town before it got too late.

Walking alone in the fading sun light,

I had started to let my mind wander

to thoughts of Dean and if I'd ever see him or Sam again.

Just as my thoughts started to numb my mind to everything else,

I was snapped out of my deep thought

By the sound of at least 4 people running towards me.

My instincts had kicked in hard and

I was running faster than I had ever before.

I didn't know why I was running,

but I had a feeling that

I didn't want to meet these people

chasing me.

That nagging feeling in

the back of my head had woken up

and was now screeching at me.

It told me which turns to take,

where to speed up and slow down,

and where there were shortcuts.

The sounds of running behind me seemed to stop

once I hit pavement and was running through town.

The voice didn't, however, as it was now

directing me to turn right off the main street

and into a parking lot for a motel.

There wasn't anyone in the little booth

and hopefully there was a vacant room I could crash in.

I had picked up a couple of less than savory skills

while traveling and,

as long as I was lucky,

it wouldn't be too hard

to get into a vacant room without a key.

I had just hoped they didn't have a newer security system.

I was walking towards a dark room

when the voice told me to try the room on the end.

Now I knew I must have been going insane,

Because the room I was being led to

had a light on and obviously had someone in it.

I hoped they would let me stay just for the night.

It must have been because I was running away,

But I hadn't noticed until then

that it was raining heavily and I was thoroughly soaked.

I also hadn't noticed that I was panting heavily.

I walked towards the chosen door cautiously,

Like a wild animal approaching a hidden trap,

hoping that there wasn't someone

waiting behind it to spring out and kill me.

As I got closer,

I felt a feeling of safety and warmth wash over me.

I shook it off and sighed deeply.

The only people who made me feel like that

now, more than likely, hated me

and I deserved it.

Body and mind on edge,

I walked up to the door,

the feeling of safety washing over me again.

I pushed it aside once more and knocked softly.

After about 30 seconds had elapsed, I tried again.

After a full minute had gone by,

I was about to try again

when the voice started screaming at me to hide.

I banged on the door with my fist,

though not loud enough to attract any unwanted attention,

panic soaring through my blood.

I heard some shuffling and saw a shadow splash on the bright curtains.

The person opened the door,

the bright light that streamed out blinded me.

Once my vision adjusted,

Dean appeared in the doorway,

gun leveled at my heart.

We stood there,

the tense silence nearly palpable.

Finally deciding to break it,

I scoured my mind for things to say.

Thousands of things ran across my mind,

hundreds of apologies,

before my mouth blurted out the first thing I thought of.

"Dean…" tumbled off my lips.

I wanted to wait for a response,

but my body disagreed

and I felt my fatigue finally catch up with me.

I fell forward,

expecting to hit the ground.

I didn't expect Dean to yell my name worriedly

or move to catch me.

I honestly expected him to shoot me,

since that would be what I deserved.

When consciousness completely left me,

I was thrust into a dream state,

filled with nothing.

All I remember from there

is that it was incredibly dark and cold,

like all the light had been stolen away

and replaced by a blanket of ice

that coated the space I found myself in.

Moving away farther from the memories

and firmer into the present,

I shift slightly,

still on my back in a mostly comfortable bed,

trying to get a better understanding

of where Dean was

since I did not see him in the room

Sitting up slowly,

ignoring the complaints from my back,

I scan the room quickly

and notice the duffel bags of Dean and Sam's things,

still at the foot of each bed.

In trying to get out of the bed,

I put my hand on the nightstand,

to steady myself when the rooms begins to spin slightly,

and touch hard plastic and paper.

Looking down at my hand,

I see that trapped beneath my fingers

are Dean's cellphone and a note.

I slide the note out from under the phone and read it.

_Hey Cas,_

_Went out for a drive with Sam. Be back soon. Something happens, call Sam._

_Dean_

Chuckling at Dean's atrocious grammar,

I pocket the phone and stand fully,

no longer feeling dizzy.

I move towards the bathroom,

suddenly wanting to take a shower,

when knocking comes from the door.

I tense up,

knowing it couldn't be Dean.

I scan the room quickly,

eyes falling onto the half-open duffel bags,

more specifically the knife poking out of Dean's.

I lunge down, grab the knife and jump back up,

moving cautiously towards the door,

ready to defend myself.

Seconds before I look through the peephole

to see who is knocking,

the door blasts open

to reveal three youngish men and a young woman.

The men just stand there,

their well-muscled bodies blocking any chance for escape,

while the woman crosses her arms and smiles,

her eyes changing from tawny to complete black.

The men's eyes are consumed by black as well

as their stoic appearance is replaced by

one of animalistic glee and hungry anticipation.

"Hiya Angel-cakes."

The woman says as she waves cheekily at me,

smirking suddenly before she speaks again.

"Oh, that's right. You're no longer Daddy's little boy are you?"

She shrugs as a sadistic grin spreads across her face,

knowing that she's hit a nerve as I glare at her.

"We'll soon fix that though, won't we boys?"

As if on cue, the three men push past her,

rushing at me with the intensity of

stampeding elephants.

With the fighting skills I had retained from both

Dean and my time on the run,

I manage to keep them at arm's length

for all of 1 minute.

Then they change tactics and decide it would be easier,

not to mention more fun for them,

if they beat up on me separately.

The largest of the three,

extremely sure of himself,

came forward first,

massive footsteps shaking the floor beneath me.

When he reaches to grab me,

I duck and lunge with the knife,

nicking his leg,

steam escaping along with a pained hiss.

It fazes him not nearly long enough

as he kicks me away before I can stand back up,

sailing over the first bed and coming to rest next to the nightstand.

I ignore the searing pain in my stomach and ribs as I stand,

a deep-rooted determination taking hold suddenly.

This must be what humans call "fight or flight" instinct.

It gives me enough energy and edge over the goon demon

to carve a long gash across his upper arms and chest.

He pitches forward in pain

just close enough

for me to finish him with a deft throat slice.

His vessel has just fallen to the dirty carpet

when the 2nd goon rushes me

before I can stand my ground,

shoving me across the bed behind me

and I roll into the wall banging my head

hard enough to see stars.

My vision hasn't cleared at all

before he's back in front of me,

lifting me by the front of my shirt,

slamming my body into the wall and

my head into the mirror,

a sharp glittery rain dusting my shoulders

with every beastly shove.

Black is swimming so heavily in my eyesight

that it is a miracle

I haven't dropped the knife

and manage to duck out of his hold,

forcing him close enough to

slide the knife to the hilt into his jugular vein,

breathing heavily as lightning sparks through his vessel,

destroying it.

I'm very close to passing out

when the final man runs across the room towards me,

leaving me mere nanoseconds to yank the knife

out of its warm bloody sheath

and prepare to defend myself for hopefully the final time.

As I stand up, an electricity courses through me

giving me an abundance of energy suddenly.

Using this gift,

I sprint from my corner,

meeting him in front of the small T.V.,

a determined expression carved as stone in my face.

This gift of energy is not enough it seems,

as he is able to easily shove me away from himself

and into the bathroom.

This time only my Father would know how

I manage to stay standing

when I come to a stop next to the sink.

The most wicked of grins splits his face

as he stalks towards me,

a predator about to pounce on his prey.

The door clicking shut should have sealed my fate,

but, as any animal caged or cornered would do,

I fight with all my might,

trading blows with the demon

for many minutes,

blood painting everything violent crimson.

The grating tang of iron is the air I am breathing,

making me cough roughly.

My momentary distraction allows for the demon

to shove me into the tub,

head and knees stinging from the impact.

The extra energy is beginning to wear off,

as it is now a struggle for me to get up.

He's looming over me,

a tall imposing figure of doom,

coal black eyes gleaming

and blindingly white teeth shining viciously.

I don't realize it when I'm pulled from the tub,

but faster than an Angel can fly

I'm whirled 180 and thrust into the door

before he shoves me onto the sink

and repeatedly beats my head into the mirror.

The faucet is digging into my ass and

I can feel the blood dripping onto my shoulders.

I want to grab the knife and jam it into his smirking face,

but it is lying in the tub,

too far away to be of any use.

I realize my only way to survive this is to fight back,

so even though I feel weaker

than when I was stabbed,

I find some hidden strength

and swiftly kick him in the balls.

It doesn't hurt him the same as a regular human,

but he still reaches down,

allowing me enough of a distraction to

shove him into the wall and lunge for the tub.

He growls, blindly lunging to kill me,

but I "get the drop" on him,

as Dean would say,

the knife carving away most of his throat,

blood spurting everywhere,

covering me, the shower curtain and surrounding walls

in hot blood.

I get up slowly,

my Jello legs and lead arms not helping much.

It's only after I've shut the bathroom door,

smearing my bloody hands against its once shiny chrome,

that I notice the woman is nowhere in sight

and the bodies have disappeared as well.

I stagger over to the night stand,

nearly tripping over bits of broken dresser and T.V.,

my injuries catching up to me as the adrenaline drains away.

I pull out Dean's phone as I slide to the floor,

my legs completely giving out,

and open his contacts list eventually,

the blood from my head not helping.

I find Sam and hit dial.

I'm hoping he answers just as a scream rends the air.

I know I shouldn't be going after whatever has caused that scream,

but reason and common sense flee once you meet the Winchesters,

so that is how I find myself,

beaten and bloody as I am,

running around the corner of the motel,

knife gripped tightly in my trembling hand.

I should have realized it would be a trap,

once again no longer having normal common sense,

but I only wanted to help whoever was in trouble.

There is no innocent be threatened,

just the female demon,

smiling smugly with her arms crossed,

as though she knew I would fall for her plan.

"Not bad Angel Soft, but I bet your pals could've done better, couldn't they?"

She purrs out, enjoying the sight of me bloody and dazed.

Flashing a giant white smile, she continues.

"Speaking of the Dickchesters,

they should be here soon,

so what say you to leaving them a little _present_?"

If it was possible her animalistic grin grew even more,

scaring some deep hidden part of me.

My response is to flip her off and tense up loosely,

readying myself for her inevitable charge.

She lets loose a wicked cackle,

promising pain.

Just before she rushes me I remember the phone.

I look to it to see it has gone back to the contacts list.

Damn, Sam must not have heard it!

Pocketing it, I resolve to try again

after I've sent this bitch back to where she belongs.

Taking my momentary distraction as an advantage,

she dashes headlong into me,

shoving me to the ground with a jarring thud.

"Still think you can beat me, _Cas_tiel?"

She taunts bending closer to

my face, gloating my weakness further.

"Cus from where I stand,

you got a snowball's chance in Jamaica of doing that."

She grins darkly once more,

onyx orbs twinkling waiting for my response.

It takes more strength than I thought I had,

but eventually I get the words to jump out.

"From where I "stand", you demonic harlot, I still do."

Again surprising myself,

I strike at her throat with the knife,

slicing it wide open so I am painted completely crimson.

I push her body away as it falls toward me

and pant heavily,

exhaustion and fatigue clawing at me with icy, numbing fingers.

But I can't let them take me,

not yet at least.

Moving to grab the phone from my pocket,

I feel a hard yank on my right hand

and suddenly the knife that has killed countless demons

is now pointed at me,

in the hands of the female who I had just slaughtered.

Only now do I realize she isn't a demon,

but something different,

ancient and much more powerful.

Gone are the street clothes and black eyes,

in their place are

a flowing simple white dress with large robe-like sleeves,

fluffy, white wings more massive than any Angel's,

and piercing silver eyes, like molten mercury scouring your soul.

Though she is not one, my last molecule of Grace tells me this,

someone must have thought so and drawn her as such,

because she is all the typical angel pictures you see,

minus a trumpet or sword,

though I know she wouldn't need either to fight or be heard.

"Congratulations Castiel, former Son of Jehovah.

You have earned a second chance.

Do not waste it."

She warns me sternly before plunging the knife deep into my chest.

I expect to be coughing blood dying.

Instead, I feel warmth spread through me,

grazing and enveloping my barely detectable Grace,

empowering and re-energizing it to half its original strength.

Just as suddenly as it had pierced me,

the knife is back in my hand,

free of all blood.

"It is only to be used for minor healing.

Try any soul saving or limb reattaching and you will not only fail,

you could kill your target and yourself as well."

Her tone makes me want to shrink into nothingness

like I am a minute old fledgling and she an Archangel.

"Your friends are almost here.

I would suggest calling them."

With that she leaves,

a flurry of feathers and noise.

Once her presence is gone I feel incredibly weak,

the fatigue of fighting and not resting enough

catching up with me like running into a brick wall.

My breath is now refusing to come out even

and chills are quaking my body,

despite it being rather warm outside.

Tugging the phone out slowly,

I hit resend and wait for the ringing.

Seconds go by painfully slow before I hear Sam pick up.

I don't have time before the phone is roughly grabbed,

Dean shouting panic in my ear.

"Cas?!"

I catch my breath as more pain mixed with exhaustion

crash over me.

"D-D-D-Dean.

I-I need h-h-help."

I hate how close to death I sound,

but I just don't have the energy to control my voice.

Worry pitching his voice higher, Dean asks how I'm hurt.

He doesn't give me a chance to respond before he's telling me to hang on,

that he'll be here soon.

It's not like I could have respond if I wanted to.

The stab wound in my chest

is deciding to finally make an appearance,

pushing small waves of blood into my throat

while it tries to heal itself.

I'm breathing deeply,

but keeping it short so I don't swallow any of the blood.

Consciousness is slowly fading from me

but I can still hear Dean's ranting in my ear.

"You die before I get there

and I'll bring your ass back

just to kill ya' myself!

Got that Cas!?

You keep breathin'

any way you can!

I'm almost there!"

I'm almost out when the air and ground rumble,

signaling the Impala is nearby.

Finally I can hang on no longer and fall

into the sweetest ambrosia:

Oblivion.

* * *

><p>Read, review and enjoy! Reviews are teh noms that feed the voices in my head and there are MANY voices!<p> 


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